


what is going on with my life

by orphan_account



Series: magical dolls are weird [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dolls, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s enormous eyebrows furrow dangerously at him, and Stiles really wishes that the two stupid dolls would stop humping each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what is going on with my life

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you're bored as fuck, given up on physics, tired of computer science, and exhausted with the U.S. presidential election. This is unbeta'd and written in less than two hours, hence the rushed and undeveloped feeling of it. The animate doll idea is influenced by two doujinshi from different fandoms--Naruto and Kingdom Hearts, to be exact.

Stiles initially made the doll as a joke. Well, that and as a voodoo doll to take out his frustration with the idiot sometimes. It’s not like he could possibly take on an older, buffer, and supernaturally enhanced person like Derek Hale.

The doll looked as alike as Derek as a teenaged boy could make it, meaning not very much. Sure, it had its own leather jacket—made from the scraps of the real Derek’s jacket whenever it got torn or ripped during fights. Its pants weren’t denim, but they were definitely black. And Stiles specially bought felt for its hair.

There was no way for Stiles to make its eyes flash red occasionally, so he simply sewed a greenish button on one side and a red button on the other—in a Coraline-esque fashion. Stiles thought it was a fitting touch, since Derek tried so hard to be scary sometimes.

Anyway, this doll was originally just your typical stuffed toy, soft but inanimate. There was only so much fun Stiles could have in poking it.

And that’s when he had the idea to imbue it with some magic, in order to give it “life.”

For a limited definition of life, to be exact. Stiles didn’t want it to turn into some creepy Chucky doll that went around killing people. (Stiles had for a second wondered if doll-Derek could bite other toys to turn them into animate, but he’s pretty sure his magic isn’t strong enough to make doll-Derek a werewolf-like doll anyway.)

All the toy could do is walk around and understand Stiles’ verbal blabbering. Doll-Derek couldn’t talk back or shift. To be honest, it wasn’t very Derek-like to Stiles. (What with the lack of threats and flashing eyes and gleaming teeth.) And it was very tiring to keep calling it doll-Derek, so Stiles ended up calling it Dalek, since doll-Derek, when shortened to doll-rek sounded a lot like Dalek.

Still, Stiles got his kicks with poking a finger at Dalek’s tummy and watching him squirming and pushing Stiles’ finger away.

One more thing—it was meant to be a secret. What self-respecting teenager would admit out loud that he still plays with dolls? 

* * *

Stiles throws his backpack down beside his bedroom door and huffed in frustration. He should probably quit the lacrosse team, since Coach Finstock is still benching him, even after that night where he proved to be more than capable of scoring and getting his team to win. There’s only so many times he can sit around to watch Scott, Isaac, and Jackson posturing on the field without feeling like throwing things at their heads.

He is about to plop down onto his desk chair to relax on the Internet, but a voice from his bed interrupted him. “What is this?”

Derek is sitting on his bed, with his doll loosely held in one hand. Dalek is trying to push Derek’s large hand away from his tiny, fragile body, to no avail. Stiles’ heart seems frozen for the length of time it took for him to notice all this. Then he forces himself to sound nonchalant.

“Isn’t it obvious, dude? It’s a doll that looks like you.” Stiles doesn’t know how to read the look on Derek’s face, but at least there are no gleaming alpha eyes or threatening teeth.

Derek doesn’t say anything in reply. Instead, he very pointedly looks Stiles in the eyes before looking at Dalek. He releases his grasp on the doll, and Dalek begins to fall. But instead of falling onto his side like a regular doll would, Dalek rolls in the air and manages to land on his feet. Then Dalek scampers over to Stiles and climbs up his pants.

Stiles offers him a hand to stand on and avoids looking Derek in the eyes again. “What? You’ve never seen how technologically advanced dolls are nowadays? They can talk and dance all on their own.”

Derek stands up, and Stiles tries to will him not to come any closer. He fails. “I’m not stupid, Stiles. There’s magic in that doll. It kept trying to attack me when I came in.”

“Well, that’s because you’re such a creeper that sneaks in teenaged boys’ rooms to lurk and loom over people. These new dolls are like a security system for kids.” Stiles doesn’t notice that he’s hugging Dalek for comfort from this questioning.

“Stop lying, Stiles. Don’t forget that I can hear your heart beat quicken when you lie.”

Stiles steps away from Derek, making a protesting noise, but Derek doesn’t let him talk.

“Get rid of it.” And then Derek jumps out of the window, without telling Stiles why he even came over in the first place.

Stiles sets Dalek down on his desk before moving over to close the window, muttering, “Asshole,” as he does so. He has no intention of listening to Derek, who obviously cannot appreciate the facts that:

a) Stiles has magic! And he can do more than manipulate magical fairy dust, like mountain ash.

b) Stiles made a doll in his image, and that’s a pretty flattering thing to do, if you asked Stiles. He wouldn’t do that for just about anybody.

c) Stiles even gave the doll life. That’s almost like giving him the gift of personality that the real Derek is in desperate need of.

So what can Stiles do in order to retaliate against this lack of appreciation?

It only takes a few seconds before Stiles has the great idea to make a doll that looks like himself, so he can give to Derek to annoy him twenty-four seven. It should be a lot easier to do, since he already has the experience of making Dalek.

And Jules—short for junior Stiles—can keep Dalek company when Stiles has to leave him home alone.

Sometimes Stiles is just so amazed at his own great ideas.

* * *

At least, that’s what he thought until he wakes up after sleeping a few hours from spending most of the night in making his own doll. Stiles isn’t sure of what he’s seeing and makes sure to rub his own eyes a few times.

But the sight of Dalek holding Jules down in a very compromising position doesn’t change at all. Jules doesn’t seem to be struggling against Dalek at all. He’s clinging to Dalek’s neck, and Stiles is very, very confused.

“What are you two doing?”

But of course, neither of them answer. And the answer was fairly obvious. They are probably fighting, and Dalek is probably threating Jules in a way only dolls could. There’s no way that Dalek had been humping Jules or that Jules was making out with Dalek.

That’s when the worst possible thing could happen. Derek knocks on his window.

Stiles groans in embarrassment and hopes Derek sees nothing. He throws his sheet over the two dolls as he hurries over to the window. “Why are you back again?” He asks, opening the window.

Derek leaps in without a sweat, saying, “The same reason why I came yesterday.”

“Which is…?” Stiles glances at his bed, only to see a lump beneath his duvet move back and forth. He prays that Derek’s enhanced senses don’t pick up the movement.

“To discuss Scott’s involvement with the p—why is your duvet moving?” Derek’s enormous eyebrows furrow dangerously at him, and Stiles really wishes that the two stupid dolls would stop humping each other.

Stiles stands frozen, when Derek stalks over to his bed and throws his sheets off. Stiles can’t watch this, he decides, and he closes his eyes.

After a few seconds of nothing but silence, he opens his eyes and sees Derek holding a doll in each hand. Dalek is once again struggling against his captor, but Jules seems oddly fascinated with the man holding him. Jules grabs onto Derek’s hand and—there’s no other way to describe it—Jules climbs him like a tree. Once Jules reaches Derek’s head, he presses his face against Derek’s stubbly cheek insistently.

Stiles is blushing heavily at this point. He wishes the ground would open up and swallow him. He really doesn’t want to face Derek and explain why a doll that looks just like Stiles is kissing his face as much as a doll can kiss.

Dalek seems jealous of the attention that Derek is getting, because his fighting is getting more furious. He’s throwing all-out punches with his stuffed hand that do no damage to werewolf flesh.

“This is not what I meant when I said ‘get rid of it.’” Derek says.

“I know. I know.” Stiles rushes to say. “I get it now. I’ll get rid of them right away. I don’t know why they were doing that. I didn’t tell them to do it. Please don’t misunderstand.” He doesn’t even care that he’s babbling now, and Stiles reaches out to try to grab the dolls.

Derek pulls away, pressing a hand against Jules, but he tosses Dalek at Stiles. “Forget it. I think I’ll keep this one.”

Stiles catches Dalek ungracefully, and he splutters, “What do you mean—‘keep’ him? Why?”

Derek shrugs at him unhelpfully with a smirk on his face. He settles down onto Stiles’ bed and gestures at Stiles to sit down too.

“This just confirms something I’ve been suspecting for a while. It also helps solidify Scott and your positions in my pack.”

“Wh—what?”

“You’re going to be mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit is welcome.


End file.
